


Captain's Log

by Voidfish



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Gen, POV First Person, Panic Attacks, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, i know but there's a reason for that, the ptsd is implied but just to be safe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2019-04-06 23:18:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14067747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Voidfish/pseuds/Voidfish
Summary: Captain’s Log, Day 82 of Year 1 post Story and Song.It’s a sunny day, 54 degrees fantasy fahrenheit outside.





	Captain's Log

**Author's Note:**

> This is something I might come back to, but it was a concept that really interested me. 
> 
> I know, first person, but that's because the format is that of a Captain's Log/Personal Journal.
> 
> Warning for panic attacks, but besides that nothing big.

Captain’s Log, Day 82 of Year 1 post Story and Song.

It’s a sunny day, 54 degrees fantasy fahrenheit outside.

Woke up at 06:00 exactly, rolled out of bed, got to work. There’s a lot of work on a ship, in the ocean, rigging and sailing and navigating and making sure that things go right. It’s all about reaching your destination in one piece. Don’t let the ship crash. Don’t get distracted.

06:30, a sandbag hit my foot. Got distracted.

06:37 the wound is wrapped up. There’s a little bit of bruising that’ll occur later, but can still walk on it, so it’s nothing to worry about. I’ll take a look at it later.

06:45, breakfast is prepared. Coffee, served black, given time to cool. It’s all I need. 

06:57, the coffee has been drunk. Time to start the day, officially.

07:00 I’m officially awake and the panic has returned. It’s a low feeling in the back of my throat. Feels like something’s tapping on my chest. Hard to breathe. 

07:05 I’m trying to ignore this feeling but it won’t go away. Gnawing at me, clawing its way into my throat. Don’t know why it’s happening. No obvious triggers.

07:10 I have succumbed. Sitting in the captain’s bunk shaking. I’m going to try deep breathing exercises. I’m going to try to talk. It’s hard to find the words I want to say. Makes the situation worse.

07:25 Still no better. Getting worse. Harder to breathe, harder to write. Words won’t come the way they’re supposed to. Can barely remember where I am or who I am. I dare not say my name. Only makes things worse.

07:30 The panic has subsided enough for me to move. Little weak. Still not sure what caused it besides just being awake. Attacks like that are getting more frequent. Note to self: research that.

08:32 Reached the shore of a local town. “Meridian,” it’s called. Small waterfront place, easy to navigate. Time to explore the town. See if there are any postcards to send.

09:15 Found a postcard with puppies playing Fantasy Football on it. Magnus would love it. There are others, too, that could work - a nice picture of a vase overflowing with flowers for Merle, a dining table for Taako and a bonfire for Lup. There’s even a postcard for the local cemetery, which Barry will get a kick out of. The library, for Angus, and…

09:16 A single postcard hidden in the mix. A blue quill with black ink that smears the words “Wish You Were Here”.

09:17 Can’t breathe. Shop owner seems alarmed. Saying something, pointing my way. Not recognized, I don’t think. I hope not. This is a terrible first impression. 

09:20 Escorted to the back of the shop. Given a class of water and told to sit with head between knees. Helps the panic, not the embarrassment. Finally able to look around, the back room is filled to the brim with books of all kinds. Even spot a necromancer’s tome. Should worry me, instead relaxes me. See a pile of journals. Spiralling again. 

09:23 Taken outside. Can’t remember when. The breeze helps though. Got to be 60 degrees fantasy fahrenheit with mild wind and low humidity. 

09:27 Calmed down, although incredibly embarrassed. The owner of the shop has come out to check on me. Apologized, but the apology was dismissed. Apparently I’m “under a lot of stress.” Forgot to put an illusion up. Stupid, stupid. Recognized by owner. They say it’s an honor to meet me. Doesn’t feel like an honor. 

09:40 taken inside and invited for tea. Politely decline and head back to the ship. Bought the postcards, including the one for her. Was thinking of tearing it up, but something’s stopping me. 

10:00 All postcards signed, “Sincerely yours, Davenport.” 

10:01 One comment added to a certain postcard. PS Give it time.

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr is @margaritamerle let's cry over Davenport together


End file.
